


I'll Be Home For Christmas.

by kingstonmcbride



Category: Upstairs Downstairs, Upstairs Downstairs (2011)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-31
Updated: 2012-12-31
Packaged: 2017-11-23 01:25:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/616535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingstonmcbride/pseuds/kingstonmcbride
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A festive piece of fluff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'll Be Home For Christmas.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ellen](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Ellen).



Agnes took her hat off, dropped it on the floor and sat back into the sofa, sighing as it moulded itself to her body. Reaching up, she removed the pins from her hair allowing it to fall loosely around her face.

She was _exhausted_.

She looked over at the Christmas tree that she had insisted on being put up. It was decorated with paper chains made by the children.

 _Her children_.

At least she knew they were _safe_. Far away from this interminable war that was now heading towards its second Christmas. Last year the children had been able to come and stay for the week. But this year, she hadn’t dared risk their safety, even though she ached to be with them. She was needed here, amongst the wounded and the sick that she had found purpose in helping. She would see her babies in January she reminded herself. There was no use in becoming maudlin.

 Her body was weary, but her mind was still whirring from the rush and stress of work. Slipping her shoes off, she lifted her legs up onto the sofa, and stretched out on it. The staff were in bed, but darling Pritchard had left her favourite drink waiting for her, and she lifted it to her lips, feeling the warm brandy make its way through her weary body.  Lighting up a cigarette, she lay back and relaxed for the first time in twelve hours.

A scuffling noise and loud cursing interrupted her rest a short while later. “Bloody hell!” The cursing reached her ears, and she raised her head disorientated.  A familiar figure came into view and she felt her legs being gently lifted and then set back down onto her friend’s thighs. Blanche reached over and took her lit cigarette, using it to light her own, before handing it back and taking a long drag. “Sorry Agnes”, she said tersely. “ _Awful_ day, and then my _confounded_ lighter gave up the ghost. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

Agnes smiled fondly, “Blanche it’s fine, I wasn’t asleep. You look as worn out as I feel.”

Blanche sat back and exhaled. “Just another horrible day.”

Agnes looked at her sympathetically. “We seem to be having a lot of those lately.”

“Blasted Germans. We lost a whole family today Agnes, the house just burnt to ashes. So close to Christmas too.” Tears pricked her eyes, and she swallowed before continuing. “It’s not _right_. A young family like that, this _bloody_ war, whole generations being wiped out…” She stopped, taking a long drag of her cigarette. “And there I was yesterday, complaining about having to forego my cigarillos.”

Agnes smiled softly. “Blanche, don’t be hard on yourself. We all complain about the little things. Every aspect of this damned war is difficult, but look at what you are doing out there every day. You are _truly_ making a difference.”

“As are you.”

“We _both_ are. So we can afford a little complaining about the loss of some luxuries, I think.”

Blanche smiled and ran her hand across Agnes’ leg, unaware of the small intake of air that the action produced.

“Your morning grapefruit for example, I know how you miss it so.”

Agnes sighed. “I do.”

Leaning her arm over the side of the chair, Blanche lifted up a brown paper bag and placed it on Agnes’s stomach. “Ask no questions”, she said with a smirk. Agnes wrinkled her brow and sat herself up, sliding her legs from across Blanche’s own, and curling them delicately underneath her like a cat.

Peering into the paper bag, Blanche watched as a small gasp and a huge smile lit up her pretty features.

“Oh! _Grapefruit_ , Blanche. Two of them, but, how did you ever…?”

“If I told you I’d have to kill you” Blanche deadpanned.

Agnes giggled and threw her arms around her friend. “This is the _nicest_ thing anyone’s ever done for me!”

Blanche returned the hug and pulled away from her, looking at her in amusement. “Whoever thought that grapefruit could provoke such excitement my dear.”

Agnes sat back, the smile not leaving her face. “Oh, it’s brightened up my spirits immensely. I shall _savour_ every morsal. I only wish I could return the favour.”

Blanche looked at her, speaking softly, “Your gratitude is repayment enough.”

Agnes sighed happily and sat back. Silence filled the room once again as they finished their cigarettes and relaxed once more on the sofa. Agnes gestured to the table. “I received a letter from Hector yesterday, but I haven’t had time to read it yet. Isn’t that awful of me?”

“Oh Agnes, we’ve barely had time to eat and sleep this last week. Why don’t you read it to me now? I know I would love to hear about what the children have been up to.”

Agnes reached for the paper and unfolded it, taking a deep breath before beginning.

Blanche watched as Agnes’ voice hitched numerous times whilst reading.  Guilt and sadness played upon her lovely features, and she worried the beads around her neck with delicate fingers. Blanche reached out a comforting hand to her knee and waited for Agnes to reach the end.

“You know, you have done the right thing. “ She looked into Agnes’ eyes, noting the tears threatening to fall. “They are _safe_ , and they are _happy_. “

Agnes sniffed and smiled, reaching for Blanche’s hand. “I know, I just…” she stopped as she felt heard Blanche wince, and looked up to see pain flashing across her face.

“Oh Blanche, gosh, your _hand_! What on _earth_?!”

Blanche shushed her, holding her hand up in front of her face to show a small bandage wrapped around it. “It’s fine Agnes, _really_. I just got a slight burn earlier today, in that awful fire.”

Agnes looked stricken, and Blanche wiggled her fingers.  “See, it really is okay dear, nothing to worry about.”

“But I do worry!” Agnes heard her voice rising as she continued.  “I never _stop_ worrying, Blanche. Every day for over a year I have worried. I am _terrified_ whenever you leave this house to go and face that _hell_ out there! God if _anything_... ” Her voice trailed off and she sniffed.

She saw the tears forming in Blanche’s eyes and felt her heart constrict.

“It’s the same for me Agnes. A constant knot of fear in my stomach.”

Her usually strong voice shook, and Agnes moved forward gathering her into a hug and losing her face in the thick curls that had defied the pins attempts to keep them in place. Blanche hugged her back tightly, their bodies pressed together on the sofa.

Drawing away Agnes cupped Blanches face in her hands. “You are always _so_ strong Blanche. You know you don’t need to be when you are with me. We’ve come so far you and I in this last year.”

Blanche chewed her lip. “Force of habit I’m afraid.”

Agnes met her gaze steadily and spoke softly, “Well stop. I’m here for you too. I want to be the person you lean on Blanche. Do you, do you _understand_ what I’m saying?”

Blanche furrowed her brow in confusion.

Agnes sighed, “You know Blanche, for an intelligent woman you can be somewhat dense at times.”

Leaning forward she brushed her lips softly against her friend’s and drew back, waiting for a reaction.

Blanche let out a shaky breath. “Agnes. I thought I was imagining things.”

Agnes shook her head and leaned forward again, this time capturing Blanche’s lips more forcefully. She sighed as the other woman opened her mouth under hers and kissed her back with equal fervour. Agnes felt a rush of joy spreading through her as Blanche moaned into her mouth and their tongues met. Finally, she thought. This was what she had wanted for so long. The taste of this woman, the touch of her lips, her hands, her skin. A dull throb started in her abdomen, and she cupped Blanche’s cheek in her hand whilst parting their lips briefly.

“Bed”, she whispered, resting their foreheads together as they both tried to slow their breathing.

“Agnes, are you _sure_ about this? You have more to lose than I, and I couldn’t _bear_ it.”

Agnes gently kissed Blanche’s nose.

“Every day I could lose you, and the thought is simply _unbearable_ my darling. If I have you and my children after this war, then there is nothing more I could need. I have learned that time and love are so _very_ precious, and that one should grasp them with both hands.

Blanche responded by kissing her fiercely, tears falling from her eyes and landing onto Agnes’ cheeks.

“Bath”, she murmured against Agnes’ lips.

“Is that code?” Agnes looked at her in confusion.

Blanche snorted. “No darling. Bath first, and _then_ bed. I want to taste your skin without the scent of TCP and smoke between us.”

Agnes smiled and flushed, her heart beating loudly in her ears.

Nodding her head, she agreed. “Bath and then bed.”

Standing, she pulled Blanche up with her and cast her eyes over to the tree in the corner. Christmas had just become something to look forward to again.

 


End file.
